Richard gave a wry grin. “Yes,” he said, “I took the pearls.
“I suppose I stood looking at them for about ten seconds. Not more. By that time I had the whole thing cut and dried. I knew that the governor had paid seven thousand pounds for those three strings, and they’re worth more today. I reckoned I’d pawn them over the week-end for two thousand at least, if not two-five. That was more than enough to see me through my troubles for the time being, especially with Christmas coming on. Christmas is always a good time with me, so I should have ample breathing space to make new arrangements—take a partner, amalgamate or sell the business and retire to grow cabbages at Cardinal’s Folly. At all events, avoid bankruptcy somehow, I knew Mother would never prosecute, and she adored her pearls, so she’d sell the Slough property to get them back. I don’t suggest for a moment that it was the right thing to do—but, to a certain extent, by seizing the initiative, I was only forcing her to do what she would have done months ago of her own free will if she hadn’t married Gideon.”
Simon grinned. “You know, Richard, this is a muddle; we’re in a real muddle.”
“I know. It’s pretty ghastly, isn’t it?”
“How did you mean to unload the pearls?”
“Well, I was taking a bit of a chance about that, but I know the man in Paris from whom Father bought them. He comes over here once or twice a year, and occasionally he looks me up. He’s interested in fine books, that’s why he comes to see me. Anyhow, I thought I’d say that Mother was in difficulties and wanted to raise money on them, so she’d sent me over to arrange a loan, as it was a question of great urgency. You see, he knew the pearls, and he knew me. I thought there was a pretty good chance of getting him to play.”
“Bit risky, wasn’t it?” hazarded Simon. “I mean, you hadn’t a letter from her, or anything.”
“Of course it was, the whole thing was a forlorn hope, but I meant to save the business if I could, and with any luck I’d have got away with it.”
Simon nodded. “Then you saw the papers this morning and came straight back. Of course, you’re out of all your worries now, you’re a rich man by your mother’s death.”
Again a sudden silence fell upon the little circle, but Richard did not seem to notice it. He spoke again quite naturally. “Yes, when I’d seen the paper my first thought was to get back at once. I didn’t know what to make of Mother’s death, of course—but then, the paper didn’t give any details. It never occurred to me that the police might suspect me. I just wanted to talk the whole thing over with you, Simon, and see if we couldn’t hit upon some plan to get the pearls back into the flat so that someone would come across them, and people would think they’d never really been missing at all.”
“This is a bad business, Mr. Eaton,” said Mr. Schatz suddenly. “Of course, I’m only watching Mr. Aron’s interests. But, all the same, it’s a very delicate matter. As a professional man, you understand, I could not advise my client to be a party to an attempt to mislead the police, by restoring the necklace under a subterfuge.”
“Where is the necklace?” Simon asked.
“Here you are.” From his inside pocket Richard drew the long strips of satin-smooth beads, and handed them across.
For a moment Simon let them dangle from his fingers, then he passed them to Schatz. “I think perhaps you’d better take charge of these for the moment. Now, Richard, I’m afraid you’ll have to go to the police. I don’t see anything else for it.”
“Yes, what do you think they’ll do?”
“Well, they’ll want a statement, of course, and they may try to detain you on some charge. If they do, don’t you worry, we’ll get you out on bail tomorrow—er—how about a solicitor? Have you got a good man?”
Richard shrugged. “There are the family people—Rathbone, Lobin and Rudd.”
“Are they any good at this kind of thing?”
“About as much as a sick headache, I should think. I always call them ‘Muggins, Juggins, and Grubb’—sort of people who always take a fortnight to give you an appointment, if you want to see them, because the only surviving partner is away in the country visiting his still more aged aunt!”
“Well, now, I’ll tell you, Richard,” said Simon earnestly. “I do think it’s awfully important that you should have a good man.”
“Whom do you suggest?”
“I—er—think, if we could persuade Mr. Schatz to act for you—we should have done a good morning’s work.”
Richard looked towards the little round-faced solicitor. “I’ve the very greatest confidence in Mr. Aron’s judgement,” he said. “I’m afraid I’ve got myself into a pretty serious mess, and I’m quite sure my family solicitors can’t cope with this sort of thing. If you care to look after me, Mr. Schatz, I shall be very grateful.”
A slow smile lightened Mr. Schatz’s heavy features. “I’ve made my reputation out of muddles, Mr. Eaton,” he said. “A good muddle and a good cigar are all I need to keep me happy, so I’ll take your case, if you like. But I must warn you of two things. First, in the ordinary way I don’t touch criminal law. Doesn’t pay. Secondly, my bill will be a pretty stiff one. I don’t charge six and eightpence for an interview and three and fourpence for a telephone call, plus the fifty per cent that the Government allow. I’ve saved people thousands of pounds on one interview before now, and, on the other hand, I’ve put in whole days at nothing at all. For example, this little job this morning is going to cost Mr. Aron fifteen guineas. Either you’ll get a bill if I’m any good to you, or you won’t get a bill at all.”
Richard smiled. “Righto. Thank goodness I needn’t worry about money any more. I’ll settle your account and send you a nice cabinet of cigars into the bargain, if you can only get me out of this. But can you handle it if you don’t touch criminal law?”
“The law, Mr. Eaton, is a matter of common sense—and knowing how to use a very good library of reference books. After that it’s a matter of briefing the right counsel. And we’re lucky there; I’ve already left a message for Ring. I thought we might need him for Aron, but now we’ll brief him for you.”
“All right, Mr. Schatz. In that case, I’ll leave everything to you.”
“Then I think the sooner we make our position clear to Scotland Yard the better. As Aron says, they may decide to detain you on a minor charge, but on what, I don’t quite see. They can hardly say that you were unlawfully upon enclosed premises in your mother’s flat—whereas with Aron, that might have held water. Still, if they do try something of the kind there should be no difficulty about getting bail tomorrow.”
“Can’t they charge me with murder if they want to?”
“They can, and of course if they do, we can’t get bail; but they don’t like to charge for murder if they can avoid it—that is, unless they’re certain of their ground.”
Rex stood up and stretched himself. “Do you fellows realise that it’s just on one o’clock? Pretty soon we’ll have to be thinking about a spot of lunch. I don’t know what you think, Mr. Schatz, but if they’re maybe going to put Mr. Eaton behind the bars, a square meal and a bottle of wine beforehand wouldn’t exactly do him any harm.”
“Yes,” Mr. Schatz agreed. “I see no harm in that at all. I could ring up the Superintendent and tell him that Mr. Eaton has placed himself in my hands, and that we’ll be round to see him about three o’clock.”
“In that case,” said the Duke, “I should be delighted if you care to return and lunch with me.”
“Not on your life,” Van Ryn interrupted. “This is my party. Besides, if we went back to Errol House as like as not Mr. Eaton here would be recognised and taken off us before we’d fed. I got a little box of a house in Trevor Square, down Knightsbridge way; and the dear old dame who keeps house for me just loves a party. If you don’t mind a picnic, come right along with me.”
Van Ryn’s invitation was generally accepted; so the whole party filed out and stowed themselves into the Duke’s big Hispano.
The ho
use that Rex had taken for his stay in England was indeed the tiniest affair. The street door opened direct into the dining-room which, with the stairs, occupied the whole of the ground floor. The drawing-room where he had entertained Felicity in the early hours of the morning took up the whole of the first floor, and on the second was his bedroom and bath. The tall American had to stoop his head to go through the doorways, but the tiny house had quite a number of small but charming pieces of furniture, and was as bright and comfortable as any bachelor could desire.
Immediately they arrived Rex yelled at the top of his voice for Mrs. Bottom, and a small, plump, middle-aged woman appeared from the basement.
“Come on,” he commanded, “We’re five great hungry guys here for luncheon. What ’uv you got in that pantry of yours?”
She evidently adored Rex, and smiled indulgently at him through her spectacles. “Oh, Mr. Rex—and I thought you were safe away getting your golf at Sunningdale!”
“You did, eh?” he teased her. “Leaving you here to hit it up with all your boy friends! I know you!”
“What things you do say!” she reproached him. “The idea—at my time of life—but what we’re going to give these gentlemen, I don’t know. There’s the venison I jugged for you yesterday, and you never came home to eat. I could soon hot that up—and we could send Annie round to the Hyde Park for some smoked salmon, same as you done before when we was in a hurry; though it’s a wicked extravagance buying food from them hotels. There’s plenty of fruit and cream in the house. Then there’s the best part of a York ‘am, and the Stilton.”
Rex laughed. “That’s marvellous, Mrs. Bottom. You send Annie round to the Hyde Park for that salmon. Tell her to ask for Peter, same as before—and say it’s for Mr. Van Ryn—they’ll know. You cut along downstairs, we’ll lay up for ourselves.”
“All right, Mr. Rex.” Mrs. Bottom turned to descend once more into the lower regions, casting over her shoulder as she did so. “And don’t you go and forget about them cork mats. Last time you laid up you burnt the table something shocking!”
“Come on, Eaton.” Rex pulled open a drawer in the sideboard. “We’re going to just forget all about last night for the next hour or so—lend a hand with these knives and forks and things, while I just see if I’ve forgotten how to shake a cocktail since yesterday.”
“An excellent idea,” said the Duke. “Mr. Schatz shall make his telephone call to Scotland Yard if you don’t mind, then we’ll forget for a little this thing that has brought us all together. For my part, if the good Mrs. Bottom will permit me to invade her larder, I propose to make a salad. It is an accomplishment of which I am somewhat proud.”
“Perfect. You come right down with me, the old dear just loves a party. I’m going to get the ice. Schatz—the ‘phone’s in that locker by the stairs.” Rex and the Duke disappeared below.
Richard and Simon began to lay the table, and Mr. Schatz sat down to the telephone. He got his number, spoke for a moment in a low voice, then joined the others. “The Superintendent’s not there,” he said, “but I’ve left a message that we’ll be round about three.”
Rex reappeared with a dish of crushed ice, and an outsize in cocktail shakers. Into the latter he began to shoot varying proportions of liquor from half a dozen bottles that stood ready on a side table. “Come on, now! Atta Boy!” He laughed as he wrapped the big shaker in a napkin and began to swing it up and down from between his knees to within an inch of the ceiling. Then, with a sudden twist, he removed the metal cap and poured the foaming amber liquid into the waiting glasses.
The Duke returned at that moment, and his smile seemed to denote that his foray into Mrs. Bottom’s larder had proved successful. He set down the big bowl which he was carrying, and they all took up their glasses.
“Well, here’s to crime,” cried Rex cheerfully, lifting his to his lips. Then, suddenly realising, he added: “Sorry, Eaton, I certainly didn’t mean that.” But his change of expression was so sudden that the whole party roared with laughter. After that the strained and serious atmosphere which had been upon them all the morning melted completely away. Even Mr. Schatz, who was busy with the electric toaster, became almost jolly!
“Cocktails,” said Rex, as he poured the third round from the seemingly inexhaustible shaker, “were made to be swallowed, not tasted. Never give a guy a large cocktail—but plenty of ’em—make ’em dry, and drink ’em quick. Come on, boys, it takes a fourth to make an appetite! Here’s to crime. Oh, hell, I forgot again. Well, never mind—here’s to cocktails!” He suited the action to the word and threw his head back.
As he did so the front door-bell rang. “Who the lord can that be?” he exclaimed. “D’you mind, Aron?” Rex indicated the door near which Simon was standing. “Tell ’em I’m dead, or going to be married!”
Simon slipped back the catch, but he had no time to say anything. The bulky figure of Superintendent Marrofat pushed past him into the room.
“Oh—look who’s here?” groaned Rex.
They did look. A purposeful smile lurked about the corners of the big man’s mouth, but it was not the kind of smile that is conducive to general gaiety. “Glad to see you all enjoying yourselves, gentlemen,” he said, with heavy humour, as his quick eye took in the array of glasses, and the preparations for the feast.
“Come right on in, big boy,” Rex invited. “I’m throwing a little party, and yours is the one little honey-face in all the world I wanted most to see.”
Any trace of humour that might have been there before vanished from the Superintendent’s face. “I’m not here for joking, Mr. Van Ryn. I think this gentleman”—he turned to Richard—“is Mr. Eaton. I must trouble you, sir, to come with me.”
Mr. Schatz endeavoured to intervene. “I spoke to your office a few moments ago on the telephone. I informed your people that Mr. Eaton had placed himself in my hands, and that we would be with you by three o’clock.”
The Superintendent did not seem impressed. “Really? Very good of you, I’m sure; but I’m glad to say that we’re not altogether dependent on the efforts of you gentlemen, at the Yard. Mr. Eaton, I must warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence against you.”
“Superintendent,” Mr. Schatz intervened again. “I shall prepare a statement on Mr. Eaton’s behalf, but we have not yet had time to draft it.”
Marrofat’s baleful glance fell upon the solicitor. “Mr. Eaton is entitled to the presence of his lawyer, so if you care to accompany him, you can. But if there are any more statements to be prepared—we’ll prepare them at the Yard.”
“Aw, Hell,” said Rex. “What fool said big men make happy mothers?”
16
The Sensitive Fingers of the Duke
Two hours later the Duke, Simon Aron and Rex Van Ryn were still seated at the table in the little house in Trevor Square. They had adhered to their host’s suggestion, and no reference had been made to the tragedy of the night before, since Richard Eaton and Mr. Schatz had been so abruptly carried off by the Superintendent.
After their departure the party had lost much of its previous gaiety, but they all, none the less, enjoyed what proved to be a most excellent meal; for despite the fact they had been strangers to each other the day before and their apparent diversity, they had actually many interests in common.
Aron and Van Ryn knew and respected each other’s houses in the City. The Duke and Simon both proved to be collectors of books and old coloured prints, while Rex and De Richleau were equally keen fishermen; and all found that they had many acquaintances in common.
The time therefore passed quickly, and they were still cracking nuts and circulating the port when Mr. Schataz rejoined them.
Rex offered him a belated luncheon, but the lawyer refused.
“No. Very good of you, Mr. Van Ryn, but it’s too late to think of lunch at this time of day. I’ll rob you of some of that Stilton and a biscuit, though, if I may—and just one glass of port.”
“That’s swell, take off t
hat top-coat, and sit right down.” Rex indicated a vacant place at the table. “Now give us the late wire.”
“Not very much that’s good, I fear.” Mr. Schatz helped himself liberally to butter.
“They’ve kept Richard, I take it,” said Simon. “Else he’d come back here. What—er—charge are they holding him on?”
“The worst. We had to admit to having taken the pearls, of course. It would have been most unwise to attempt to conceal that. I couldn’t do it—and when the Superintendent heard that, he went the whole hog and had a warrant drawn for murder.”
“That means we can’t get bail, doesn’t it?” Simon asked.
“Yes, bail is never given in a charge of murder—rotten for the boy—he was pretty cheerful when I left, though, considering all things.”
Simon nodded. “Tell me, how did they find out about Richard? When you ‘phoned you didn’t say where you were talking from, only—er—that he had placed himself in your hands, and you’d be at the Yard about three.”
“They checked back the call?” suggested Rex.
“Ner—even if they did, Marrofat wasn’t in when Schatz rang up. They couldn’t have traced the call, found Marrofat, told him all about it, and left time for him to get down here from Westminster, all in ten minutes—couldn’t be done.”
“It is conceivable,” said the Duke, “that he was on a flying squad car in the neighbourhood. These cars are fitted with wireless now, in which case it would have been possible. But I confess I should be interested to learn how he managed it.”
Mr. Schatz smiled. “Well, I can enlighten you. I expect they traced the call as a matter of routine—the police are nothing if not thorough—but the Superintendent didn’t learn where Eaton was in that way. When we got to Scotland Yard he was handed my message, and that made him a little more amiable. He realised then that we were on the level, and he was just a bit pleased himself by this little coup. I asked him how he did it, because I had been wondering myself on the way there, and this is what happened.
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